


Empty Garden

by with_wit_and_perfect_timing



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Artist Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Civil War (Marvel), Gen, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt Steve Rogers, Marvel Universe, POV Steve Rogers, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve Feels, Steve Rogers Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 01:43:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8778145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/with_wit_and_perfect_timing/pseuds/with_wit_and_perfect_timing
Summary: James Buchanan Barnes loved giving girls in his class flowers. And Steve Rogers loved growing flowers, for his mother who was either working or sick. Bucky always looked to Steve for favors, picking flowers of his choice to give to girls he was smitten with that month. Steve never minded it, he wanted to use his flowers for good. And Bucky always asked nicely.That is, until Steve catches him stealing from his garden at 5 in the morning.





	

"Steve, I'm gonna need some more flowers soon."  
  
  
             "Aw, Buck, c'mon, you know I'm almost out."  
  
             "I know, I know. But have you seen the way Suzie Davis has been treating me recently? I think I might be stuck on her."  
  
            Steve furrowed his brow and wrung his hands, "Well, I have a bit more lilies you can use, but that's it, alright? I need to save some for Mom."  
  
             Bucky clapped his hand down on Steve's shoulder firmly, "I owe you one, pal."  
  
            Steve smirked, "Yeah, you owe me like thirty, you big jerk."  
  
             Bucky rolled his eyes, "One day, I'll do you a solid, all of 'em rolled up in one big package."  
  
            Bucky's surefire move on the elementary schoolgirls was flowers. They would swoon and wail over them, putting some in their hair and tucked in their dresses. Steve could never get the hang of it, though. The girls would accept them when he offered, but would seldom pursue anything further.  
  
            Bucky loved giving girls’ flowers, and Steve loved growing flowers. Mostly to reduce stress, but also for his mother, who was either working, or in bed. Something that always cheered her up was looking outside her window and seeing a small garden Steve had somehow whipped up with the money he'd saved. He grew all kinds of flowers; daises, roses, tulips, and poppies, to name a few. He would spend his mornings and evenings tending to his babies, weeding and watering. Sometimes, he'd just like to sit. Sit and watch the beautifully colored flowers swinging to the spring breeze.  
  
            Bucky would show up at his doorstep, or come to him after school, begging him for a small bouquet of flowers to give to the girl he was "stuck on" that month. Steve could never turn him down. Bucky couldn't grow flowers of his own, he had told him.  
  
            "Not where I live." He had said.  
  
             "Where do you live?" Steve inquired. Bucky had never told him much about his family, or what he did when he left school. He never invited Steve over to his house; he just came over to Steve's.  
  
             Bucky shrugged, "Eh, that part of town just can't grow much, you know? Plus, I don't have the gentle garden touch like you, Steve. My hands are too big." He laughed.  
  
            Steve never pushed for more backstory. He respected Bucky's privacy, for they had only known each other for a few months. Maybe Bucky was poor, like Steve was, and didn't want to admit it. Or maybe he was embarrassed by his family.  
  
            Or maybe -  
  
            Maybe he was embarrassed of Steve.  
  
             Steve didn't like thinking too much about it; it made him insecure. After all, it was a silly thought, wasn’t it? So he would push those thoughts of Bucky into the back of his mind.  
  
            A few days after Bucky asked for flowers for Suzie Davis, Steve had asked him about it. "How'd things go?"  
  
             Bucky scrunched up his nose, "She took them, but that's it. I guess she led me on for a nice bouquet of lilies."  
  
             "Ah," Steve said, "I'm sorry."  
  
            His friend shrugged, "It's alright. I'll find someone else."  
  
             Steve believed him.  
  
            Until two weeks later, he found Bucky stealing flowers from his garden.  
  
  
  
  
            Steve woke up with a jolt. Something was wrong. He had heard the gate of his garden creak open. He sat in his bed for a moment, wondering if it was just his imagination.  
  
            Then he heard the snip-snip sound of cutting stems. He threw his covers off of him, and ran to the front door. Steve couldn't see anything out of the window, so he cracked open the door. Whoever was in the garden paused, then returned to snipping the flowers.  
  
            Steve flung the door open, a small bat in his hand to defend himself. That's when he saw the dark hair, and piercing blue eyes.  
  
            "Bucky?" Steve said, aghast.  
  
            The brunet was all muddy, mostly his knees and hands. He was wearing a nice shirt and tie, with his hair slicked back nicely. He stood up quickly, dropping the flowers and wiping the dirt off of his hands.  
  
            "Hey, what're you doing here?" Steve said softly, and glanced back in his house, seeing the clock. "It's five in the morning."  
  
            Bucky didn't say anything, even though he looked like he wanted to.  
  
             "Buck, why're you stealing?" Steve asked gently, putting the bat down and closing the door behind him.  
  
             The boy rubbed the back of his neck, "I...felt bad that I had to keep asking you."  
  
            Steve walked down the porch steps and picked the flowers off the ground. "Here, take them." He gave them back to his friend. "I'm not mad. And I don't mind you asking."  
  
            Bucky's face relaxed with relief. "Oh, thanks pal."  
  
            Then Steve realized something. "Hey! Which girl are you giving these to?"  
  
            He could see Bucky tense immediately. "Oh - well, you don't know her. She doesn't...go to our school and – um – she – well, you don't know her." Even though the sun wasn't up, Steve could see the red in Bucky's face.  
  
            "C'mon, Buck, you don't have to be embarrassed about her."  
  
            Bucky kept silent, and stood very still. A strange feeling began to rise from Steve's stomach to his chest.  
  
            "Hey, you alright?" Steve asked, taking a step closer to him.  
  
            Bucky stepped back a bit, flinching at Steve's out stretched hand. His head tilted towards the ground, and his hands were fists inside his pockets. He – most certainly – was not alright. Then he spoke.  
  
            "You have to promise not to freak out." He said.  
  
            Steve nodded, "I swear." He crossed his heart with his finger to prove his loyalty.  
  
            "Follow me."  
  
            *********  
  
            Steve trailed behind Bucky for a good half hour. Neither of them said a word. The brunet just kept his arms at his side, his head down, and his hands gripping the flowers. The morning was cool and dim, just like Steve liked them. He did not, however, like the frost that surrounded Bucky.  
  
            Suddenly, the environment around Steve became familiar. They passed a park, along with the empty playground, and then giant oak tree, and then the abandoned ice cream stand. A feeling of dread swirled around in Steve's gut; because he had a feeling he knew exactly where Bucky was taking him. He knew.  
  
            Because he had been there countless times before.  
  
            As they entered the cemetery, Steve's stomach heaved. Someone close to Bucky, someone he liked, was dead. Steve didn't know if he was ready for this. He stayed silent, though, for he didn't want to change his friend's mind. Bucky looked like he knew exactly where he was going, dodging the tombstones and monuments, being very careful not to step on the flowers that lay on the graves.  
  
            The clouds began to brighten, as the sun was soon to come up, and the birds chirped softly, as the boys made their way through the graveyard. The morning dew was settling, unlike Steve's insides. His head was spinning, wondering what to make of all this. He was so caught up in his thoughts; he didn't see that Bucky had stopped at a single gravestone.  
  
            The boys stood side by side at the grave, looking silently at the engraving.  
  
_December 2, 1899-October 11, 1930_  
  
             Here lies Winifred C. Barnes  
  
             Cherished wife and beloved mother  
  
             Rest in Peace  
  
            "Oh, Buck..." Steve whispered, reading the sad words.  
  
            "Hey, Mom," Bucky said in reply, laying the flowers gently on her tombstone. He straightened up and turned to Steve.  
  
            Steve didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to do. So he knelt down and brushed some of the dirt off of the plaque. "Hi, Mrs. Barnes," he says softly.  
  
             He looked up at Bucky's face for approval. The sun was coming up, and the light hit the tears glistening in his eyes, that were soon to stream down his face. Bucky smiled, his bottom lip trembling.  
  
            "I'm sorry for stealing your flowers," he said. "It's just – this is the day she..." his voice trailed off.  
  
            Steve stood up and put his hand on Bucky's shoulder, "Hey, I understand. I forgive you. I'm glad..." he glances down at the flowers. "I'm glad you introduced us. What was she like?"  
  
            Bucky beamed, "Oh man, she was the greatest. She always baked when she was alive, always making food. You should've tried her blueberry scones, Steve, you'd've killed for 'em."  
  
            Steve could have listened to Bucky talk about his mother for hours, and he nearly did. Bucky told him everything he needed to know. How she always stood up for herself when she wasn't treated right, the way her blue eyes crinkled at the edges when she laughed, and the time she gave up her career to start a family, to have Bucky.  The sun was very much up when Bucky finally sighed and said, "Hey, thanks for asking about her."  
  
            "What about your dad?" Steve asked.  
  
             Bucky shrugged, "He's gone, too. Went down during a drill at his military camp."  
  
            Steve's heart sunk. He had never thought of Bucky as an orphan. "Where do you live?"  
  
            Bucky puffed up his chest proudly, "The base took me in, and I was basically raised there anyways."  
  
            Steve kicked the dirt with his shoe, "Hey, can I show you something?" He asked.  
  
            Bucky nodded, "Anything."  
  
       _Here lies Joseph Rogers_  
  
_A father and husband, he was loved by all._  
  
_He will be missed._  
  
            "Wow." Bucky breathed, staring at the gravestone Steve was oh so familiar with.  
  
            "Yeah, I come here all the time. Sometimes just to talk to him. I like to think he's listening from somewhere."  
  
            "What was he like?"  
  
            "I don't remember."  
  
            The two boys were quiet. Steve tried to read Bucky's face as he looked down on the tomb. It was mostly blank, but there was something in his eyes that gave him away. Admiration.  
  
            Bucky knelt by the grave and brushed the dirt off of it just like Steve did to his mother's. "Hi, Mr. Rogers. It's nice to meet you."  
  
            Steve noiselessly lowered himself to Bucky's level.  
  
            "I've met your son, Steve. My dad is gone, too. I wonder if you guys know each other up in Heaven. How's Mom? Is she alright? I'd like to think she is, she was pretty okay down here. We're pretty okay, too, down here on Earth. Steve's doing just fine, I'm watching over him.” Bucky looked at Steve tenderly. Then his voice became soft and warbled. “Return the favor and make sure my mom is safe, okay? She's pretty special." Bucky's voice cracked, a tear finally falling onto his cheek.  
  
            "Hey, Bucky, what were your mom's favorite flowers?"  
  
            Bucky looked up with flushed, wet cheeks. "Roses. She loved the pink ones the most."  
  
            Steve nodded, "I better get to work on that. Her birthday is coming up."  
  
            Steve had never seen a boy smile brighter.

**Author's Note:**

> Well what do you guys think?? This is one of my old ones that I thought I had posted, but actually didn't (way to go, me!). 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading this one-shot :) Thoughts, concerns, and questions can be put in the lovely comment section below. I adore feedback :D Kudos if you enjoyed it!!
> 
> \- Kaz


End file.
